The Sound

  ‘You laughed when that girl asked if we were on a date.’

  He shakes his head, confused.

  ‘At the gig? Remember?’

  His eyes suddenly widen as he recalls the night.

  ‘And it just came out. I mean. I’m not sure why. I just—’

  He is shaking his head. ‘But the whole time you were hooking up with Jeremy Thorne?’ He winces at the name. As though Jeremy is tainted just by association with Tyler Reed. Which, now I come to think about it, doesn’t seem so far from the truth.

  I shrug. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Kind of?’

  I shrug again in answer.

  He blows out a loud breath of air and turns his head to the wall. I can tell he’s biting back his next sentence.

  ‘I didn’t lie to you. I just didn’t tell you – there’s a difference,’ I say quietly.

  He turns instantly back to me. ‘A small one,’ he says.

  ‘Don’t give me that. You don’t tell me anything!’

  His mouth opens, he’s ready to argue, but then he shuts it, obviously remembering that I’m totally right. He walks over to the counter and leans against it, rubbing his hands over his face and then back through his hair, as he pushes it off his face. And he looks so goddamn beautiful and I think, God, why did I come here? What do I want from him? Clearly something I am never going to get.

  ‘How about this for the truth, then?’ he says. ‘I like you. I like the way you say asshole – it’s incredibly sexy, you have no idea how sexy. I like the fact you don’t take any crap from anyone. I like the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re thinking hard, just like you’re doing right now. I love how you write, and how you dance and I even love how bad you are at playing guitar but how hard you try anyway. That enough truth for you?’ He sounds angry, but I didn’t process much after the word sexy. What exactly is he trying to say? Is this like he keeps repeating the italicised kind or not?

  ‘I don’t get what you’re saying,’ I mumble, hoping and praying, with my stomach squeezed small as a peanut, that what he’s saying is that he LIKES me and that I’m not just projecting my fantasies.

  He winces at me as though he’s in pain. Then he laughs under his breath, turning his head so I see him in profile, see him swallow. He’s nervous.

  ‘I like you,’ he says, staring me straight in the eyes as he speaks, and there is absolutely no way of misconstruing his meaning. ‘I’ve been trying not to. Even when you told me you had a boyfriend . . . even after I find out you’re dating that loser Thorne . . . I still like you. And it’s been driving me crazy not being able to tell you.’ His jaw tenses angrily. ‘I can’t think about anything but kissing you . . . about being with you . . .’ He shrugs. ‘There, I said it. Need me to say it one more time?’

  ‘No, I got it,’ I say in a weak voice.

  He glances up at me then, his eyes narrowing with a question. He’s caught my tone and possibly, just possibly, he has seen the expression on my face which I’m guessing is hovering somewhere in the facial expression dictionary between wanton naked desire, extreme happiness and utter shock, and is evaluating the meaning behind it.

  ‘Shit,’ he says.

  That is not the word I am looking for right now.

  ‘What?’ I stammer.

  ‘Shit,’ he says again, running his hands through his hair some more, not looking at me.

  ‘What?’ I say, even more anxiously.

  He looks up at me then, and his expression reads like someone just told him zombies ate his cat. ‘Do you like me?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I answer.

  ‘No. I mean, do you like me?’ He emphasises the like.

  ‘Um.’ I hesitate before I decide to man up and take this italicised like by the balls. ‘Yes.’

  He doesn’t look happy about this, which confuses me, given his speech a few seconds ago about not thinking about anything other than KISSING ME. This isn’t how it normally pans out when two people discover they both like each other in the same way.

  Jesse turns around to face the counter and then he kicks it. Hard. I’m so confused that I start to wonder if the champagne I drank earlier was laced with something. Jesse leans over the counter now, resting his palms on it. His head is bent. He’s taking deep breaths.

  ‘Jesse,’ I say, stepping forwards. I place my hand on his back, just below his shoulder and I feel his body relax and then tense as he springs around. I step backwards quickly.

  ‘You’re not meant to like me back,’ he says angrily. ‘Damn, I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. Shit.’ He kicks the counter again. ‘I thought my flirting with you had put you off. It was meant to put you off. To make you think I was a player . . . ’

  I stare at him, not sure what I’m supposed to say. Usually boys flirt with girls they want to like them. Don’t they?

  ‘I can’t be with you, Ren,’ he says. His expression is hard, slaying.

  ‘Why not?’ I ask, stumbling back. ‘You just said you wanted to kiss me.’ You can kiss me, I want to yell. KISS ME. But I don’t.

  ‘I can’t be with you or kiss you or do anything with you.’ And here I see his hands are fisted at his sides, his jaw clenched.

  I raise my eyebrows. My confusion just went up a level. ‘OK,’ I say, blood flying through my veins along with several pints of happy, still thinking that Jesse Miller likes me and wants to kiss me and do anything with me. Why is there a CAN’T in this equation? ‘You’re not making any sense,’ I say, trying to keep the hysterical out of my voice.

  He bites his lip. And then he takes a deep breath. ‘You really want to know the truth?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  He slides to the floor then, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them.

  ‘Tyler Reed assaulted my sister.’

  I take a breath, reeling backwards. I shake my head. ‘What?’ This is several realms away from what I expected to hear.

  ‘Tyler Reed attacked my sister . . . last summer.’

  I sink to my knees in front of him.

  ‘That’s why you beat him up,’ I say. It’s not a question. Everything is sliding sickeningly into place.

  Jesse nods. I can see that his eyes are glimmering in the low light of the shop. He’s studying me hard, watching my reaction. I reach out and place a hand on his knee. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, then, ‘Why didn’t you tell the police? Surely they would have understood why you beat him up? Tyler would have gone to prison, not you.’

  He drops his head then after a beat looks up at me again. ‘Because Hannah didn’t want to report it. She was thirteen – she’s a kid. And we couldn’t force her. Not after what she’d been through. Imagine what the whole process would be like for her. And for what? He would have walked. Rich kids like him always do. There was no proof. Just her word against his.’

  ‘But—’ I start. She was thirteen, I wanted to say. He would never have got away with it.

  He cuts me off. ‘No. I’m glad we didn’t make her because look what happened to me in court. Tyler Reed and his father would have dragged her through a trial, they would have destroyed her. I couldn’t have watched that. I couldn’t—’ His voice breaks.

  Now I move. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, cradling him against me, and I rock him as his shoulders heave. I rest my lips against the top of his head. I do not want to ever let him go.

  Eventually Jesse takes a heaving breath in and looks up at me. His lips are inches from mine, his eyes shining bright. I see his gaze drop just briefly to my lips. My heart beats so fast in response that it’s as if a bird is fluttering in my chest, trapped, beating against the panes of my ribs.

  ‘I’m going to finish this thing with Tyler,’ Jesse says, his gaze now locked on the middle distance where I imagine he’s picturing Tyler Reed’s face with his fist attached to it.

  I pull back, my arms falling to my sides. ‘What does that mean? You’re going to beat him up again?’ Or does he mean kill him?

&nbsp
; Jesse nods, his attention back on me. ‘I want to hurt him as badly as he hurt Hannah,’ he spits, ‘I want to ruin his life like he ruined hers. You know what she’s doing in Boston?’ he asks. I shake my head. ‘She’s too scared to be here – here at home with her family, where she belongs – because she knows Tyler will be here for the summer. He’s run her out of her own home.’ He grimaces, the anger raging in his tense muscles. ‘That’s why she’s staying with my aunt in Boston. And she’s seeing a therapist my parents can’t even afford to pay.’ He pauses, his eyes darting to mine. ‘I’ve not told a single soul any of this. Not even Austin. The only people who know are my parents and me. And Hannah’s best friend.’

  I hang my head. I wonder if that was the girl I saw him talking to outside the shop weeks ago. I shake my head. It’s so hard to know what to say, how to calm him down – because wouldn’t I feel the same way in his situation? Hasn’t he every right to want to tear Tyler Reed limb from limb? I feel sick at having even spent time in the same space as Tyler, at having kissed his best friend.

  Then I look at Jesse, feeling determination shoot through me. ‘There are other ways,’ I say.

  ‘There are no other ways,’ Jesse says bitterly, ‘– not available to us anyway – Tyler’s rich, he’s connected. Hannah doesn’t want to testify against him in court. And she’s right. He’d win. I can’t ask her to take the stand, to have to face him across a courtroom.’

  ‘Jesse,’ I say, my tone fierce, ‘if you go after him you will end up in prison. They’ll know it’s you. Even if you jumped him down a back alley and there were no witnesses you’d be the prime suspect.’

  Jesse looks up and holds my gaze. His eyes are fire. ‘I know,’ he says, resignation in his voice. His I know sounds more like I don’t care.

  ‘That’s why I can’t get involved with you.’ He says this softly, so sadly that I feel like I’m made from perforated card and he’s just torn me in two.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I whisper, but I think I do. I do understand, I just don’t want to.

  ‘I’m not going to change my mind about this. I’m going to prison. It’s the price I’m willing to pay.’

  I open my mouth, ready to start yelling, but he shakes his head and I fall silent.

  ‘I found her, Ren,’ he says and I watch the shadows darken his face. ‘She called me. She was crying so hard I couldn’t even understand what she was saying. She just asked me to come and get her. I drove out to Jetties beach and she was there. At two a.m. He’d just left her . . . like she was a used piece of trash.’ He stops, takes a deep, shuddering breath. ‘He invited her to a party,’ he continues, still holding my gaze. ‘There was no party.’ He pauses and I picture all of it. I picture Tyler leading her into the dunes. I picture him throwing back his head and laughing when she tried to fight him off. ‘He left her there,’ he says again, almost in wonder this time, ‘in the middle of the night, on her own.’ Another pause. He studies his clenched fists and then glances quickly back up at me. ‘And now he’s walking around scot-free, laughing about it, thinking he’s got away with it.’ His gaze burns me. ‘So do you see now why I’m going to prison? And why that’s a price I’m willing to pay? He can’t just get away with it. No way.’

  I can’t find any words. What am I supposed to say? Yes, I see. No, Tyler can’t get away with it. But no – I don’t think it has to be this way.

  ‘I don’t want anyone trying to change my mind,’ Jesse says, looking pointedly at me even though I haven’t said a word. ‘Which is why I can’t be with you. I don’t want you to change my mind.’ He lowers his voice, leans in towards me and speaks so fast that I have to grasp for the words. ‘All I want to do right now is kiss you,’ he says, ‘and hold you and . . .’ He breaks off. ‘But I can’t, Ren,’ he continues after a beat, resting back against the counter. ‘Believe me I wish I could. And if I felt differently about you . . . if it could just be a meaningless hook-up I might even think about it because, let’s face it, I might never get the chance again.’ Here he smiles softly at me but I can’t smile back. ‘But despite the rumours, I’m not a player. Not anymore anyway. And I’m not going to use you like Jeremy Thorne did. You deserve better.’

  It feels as if I’ve fallen onto a jagged piece of steel and it’s skewered all my vital organs. I’m speechless.

  ‘Even telling you all this makes you an accessory to a crime,’ he adds.

  ‘Jesse,’ I say, finally finding my voice though it no longer sounds like mine, ‘I don’t care. I want to help you.’

  He brings his hand up and rests it gently against my cheek. ‘You can help me by not trying to change my mind . . . by understanding why I have to do this.’

  I stagger to my feet. ‘No,’ I shout. ‘No bloody way.’

  He frowns up at me in bewilderment. I grab my bag which is lying on the counter and head for the door. My tears have been burned up by anger and I yank the door so hard that the glass almost breaks a second time.

  I hear Jesse jumping to his feet behind me and then his hand closes around the edge of the door, stopping me from slamming it shut.

  ‘Ren,’ he says gently. ‘Don’t go.’

  I whip around. He’s here. He’s so close. And all I want is to bury my head in his chest and breathe him in and hold on to him and kiss him and let him do anything to me. But I don’t. I have more steadfastness than a rock. I do not budge.

  ‘I’m not going to be part of this,’ I say. ‘Of you being stupid and doing something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.’

  ‘I won’t regret it. It’s worth it. It’ll be worth it if it means Hannah can come back here. If she can come home.’

  ‘And what about if you’re gone? Did you think about that?’ I yell. ‘What would she be coming back to? A family that’s broken! A brother in prison! You think that’s what she wants?’ I shake my head at him in fury. ‘I thought you were smarter than that.’

  I shove past him out into the night and I start walking. I am about fifty metres down the road, marching in a blind fury, when a truck pulls up alongside me and that’s when I remember the Nantucket Nanny Serial Killer. I clutch my bag to my chest, already searching for the mace, but then I see that it’s Jesse.

  ‘Get in,’ he says, throwing open the passenger door.

  ‘No,’ I say, glaring at him. But then I stare down the length of the very dark, very shadowy and very lonely street and think again.

  ‘Ren, I’m not letting you walk home by yourself given the situation.’

  I huff and then pull myself up into the truck.

  Jesse doesn’t say a word. He waits until I’m buckled up and then he starts driving. He goes slowly and the two times that I glance across at him I see that he’s frowning and chewing his bottom lip. He’s thinking. Well good, I think, maybe he’s thinking that he’s being a total tool and reassessing the whole idea. Maybe he’s going to figure out that going to jail would be a dumb idea. And that kissing me would be a not so dumb idea. Goddamn all men. Goddamn them. They all have shit for brains. I think about what I’m going to tell Megan and then remember that I am sworn to secrecy. I will never betray Jesse’s confidence even if I think he’s being a total idiot with shit for brains.

  I grit my teeth and clutch the door handle and count down the seconds until he pulls into my drive. He stops right at the top, doesn’t drive down to the house.

  I frown across at him.

  ‘Don’t want to get you into trouble with your employers,’ he says quietly. ‘I know they didn’t appreciate me turning up the last time.’

  I open my mouth to say something, reassure him that that wasn’t the case, but I can’t do that without lying, so I shut my mouth and just nod.

  ‘Thanks for the ride,’ I say quietly.

  ‘I’ll wait until you’re inside,’ he says, glancing down the drive where the front door of the house is visible.

  Why does he have to be so goddamn good-looking? And such a dickhead? What is with him? How can he not see how
stupid he’s being? But it’s true, that even as I think this, there’s a part of me that thinks what he wants to do is full of courage and honour and love. He’s doing this out of love. Out of devotion to his sister and her happiness. The problem is he isn’t thinking straight. He thinks what he is doing is his only option.

  I open the car door and get out. I’m so angry and so tangled up with emotions I can’t think straight either and I don’t want to get into any more conversation with Jesse right now. ‘Bye,’ I say, and I slam the door.

  34

  ‘Oh my God! Oh good Lord! Thank you!’

  It’s Carrie. She is still awake and has clearly been waiting up for me. She flings herself at me as soon as I step foot through the door.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she demands. ‘You should have been back half an hour ago. You called and said you were leaving with Richard Reed. I’ve been worried out of my mind that you’d been in an accident. And he’s not answering his phone. I was about to call the police!’

  Oh crap. I forgot to call her. ‘I’m sorry. I um, I had to see Jesse Miller about something so I stopped at the store and then he drove me home.’

  Carrie stares at me blank-faced. ‘Jesse Miller?’ she says.

  ‘Yes,’ I answer. ‘You know, you people should really give him a break. He’s actually a really great guy.’

  Carrie looks rather taken aback at my tone and I know that I’ve been a little aggressive in my assertion of Jesse’s goodness (and possibly a bit misguided given that this really great guy is planning to kick the shit out of Tyler Reed sometime before summer’s up) but I feel so angry at all these people – at Tyler Reed and his creepy father, and at Jeremy, and at Carrie too, for how they all judge Jesse when they don’t know the full story. It makes me so mad I could break something. So God knows how it must make Jesse feel. Suddenly I have full empathy . . . even though I never thought I’d condone violence. Jesus, his sister was thirteen. I get a sudden sick feeling in my stomach as an image leaps into my mind. Tyler Reed on the deck of his house with Paige’s little sister, Lola. Then I recall the argument I saw between Tyler and Paige on the fourth of July. The pieces that were falling sickeningly into place now thud heavy as tombstones.